The Blind heiress's Revenge.

The rain had been falling since morning, soft at first, then heavier, as though the sky itself was warning her to turn back.

But Isabella Ashford never turned back once she made a decision.

“Miss Isabella, please—just let the driver handle it,” her bodyguard urged from the front seat, glancing at her through the rearview mirror with unease.

She was already unfastening her seatbelt.

“I said stop the car,” she repeated, her voice calm but firm, the kind of tone that made even grown men obey without question.

Outside the tinted window, the city blurred into streaks of gray and gold, headlights reflecting off wet asphalt like broken stars. Somewhere beyond that chaos was Ethan.

And Ethan needed her.

That was all she could think about.

The car slowed, pulling over near the intersection where traffic was already building under the heavy rain. Without waiting for another warning, Isabella stepped out, the cold immediately biting through her designer coat, soaking into her skin within seconds.

“Miss Isabella!” the bodyguard shouted behind her, but she was already running.

Her heels struck the pavement with hurried precision as she crossed the street, ignoring the blaring horns, the shouting drivers, the storm swallowing everything into noise and motion. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt, not from fear—but from love, from urgency, from the terrifying thought that something might have already happened to him.

Then she saw it.

A man standing in the middle of the road.

Ethan.

Soaked, frozen, staring at something in the distance like he couldn’t move.

And behind him,

A truck.

It was coming too fast.

Too close.

Too late.

Everything in Isabella’s mind went silent for a fraction of a second, the world narrowing until only one thing existed: him.

“Ethan!” she screamed.

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t hear her.

Or maybe he did—but fear had already stolen him.

There was no time to think.

No time to breathe.

Only instinct.

Isabella ran.

Her body hit him with full force, pushing him out of the truck’s path just as the sound of screaming brakes tore through the rain-soaked air.

But she was too slow to escape herself.

A deafening impact followed.

Pain exploded through her body like fire.

The world spun violently as she was thrown across the wet road, her vision breaking into shards of light and darkness, the rain mixing with something warm running down her face.

She could hear voices—but they were far away.

Distant.

Unreal.

The last thing she saw clearly… was Ethan.

Alive.

Safe.

Calling her name.

And then everything disappeared.

When she woke up, there was no light.

Only darkness.

Endless, suffocating darkness.

At first, she thought it was night.

Then she realized her eyes were open.

“I… can’t see,” she whispered.

Her voice sounded small. Fragile. Not like her own.

A hand immediately grabbed hers.

“Isabella, I’m here,” Ethan’s voice broke as he spoke, trembling with emotion. “I’m right here. Don’t be afraid. You saved me… you saved me, do you hear me?”

She wanted to smile.

Even in pain, that made it worth it.

“If you're safe… then it’s okay,” she whispered faintly.

A tear dropped onto her hand.

And for the first time in her life, Isabella Ashford understood something terrifying.

She had lost her sight,

But she had not lost him.

And that was enough.

Or so she believed.

Outside the hospital room, in the hallway where she could not see,

Ethan stood still for a long time, staring at the closed door.

His expression slowly changed.

The grief in his eyes faded.

And something colder quietly took its place.

“From now on,” he murmured to himself, almost inaudibly, “everything will be easier.”

Behind him, a shadow of a woman appeared, smiling softly.

The storm outside continued to fall without mercy.

And Isabella, inside the room, smiled in the darkness… still believing she had saved the man she loved.